May He Rest
by Chaos's Prototype
Summary: As a Somebody, he was someone much different. Who that person was, he no longer cares.


**A/N: **Happy Marluxia Day! :D I'm amazed I managed to get it done in time. XD This is what, the first time since Valentine's Day I've done a pairing day/holiday fic?

This probably makes a bit more sense if you've read _The First Step_, but it should make enough sense even if you haven't. The most important thing to know in that case is that, in my headcanon, Marluxia was Catholic and both he and Larxene are from La Citè des Cloches. Also, because of the fact that English is his second language and his home world is in the 15th century, his dialogue is written somewhat differently at this point in time than it would be if it were later on.

And, just like in _The First Step_, there is some religious content. A lot of it is probably implied (except for maybe one scene), so it may not be to the same degree.

* * *

"The city is burning!" So many shouts and shrieks, all much like this one, rang through the air, reaching even as far as Lumaria was, all the way on the very outskirts of Paris. It could not be spreading this quickly, that was impossible. He hoped.

The speed of the flames was not the only strange thing, though. As bright as the burning sky was, even brighter than the swiftly dimming night stars could make it, the ground below was dark. The farther he ran along the city, the darker it became, until the only spots of light were the far away torches the guard carried.

Feeling his way, still moving quickly—though not nearly as much as he would have liked—he thought he saw the darkness around his feet move. No sooner had he dismissed it as ridiculous, he felt something wrap around his ankle, something else clawing into his other leg. Jerking away instinctively, he saw the creature's body illuminated by a light that hadn't been there a moment earlier. The fire was spreading.

It was the black creatures, the dark beings that were said to run along the streets during the night. Some said they were spirits, or demons, and others still said they must have been-

A larger one, slightly more human in appearance, slammed into him, a wall of flame following in its wake. It slashed into the fabric of his shirt, tearing into skin in the same motion. The wound felt like ice, freezing pain shooting through his chest. And something more disturbing, something wicked.

The fire grew higher all around him, trapping him in an unnaturally forming ring, made as if it could think, plan, and act all for itself. More of the creatures slipped through the fire, seemingly unharmed by it, swarming around him.

He fought off the one that had already attacked as he could, wishing for a fleeting moment that he had the scythe he had been training with. Even a weapon such as it would surely do some damage to these...monsters, as the gypsies called them, seemed strangely fitting just now. If they could even be hurt.

Even worse, the smoke from the flames was making it hard to breathe, much less fight, even if he had been doing well from the start. It was dizzying, and clouded his mind, leading to several terribly misjudged attacks. They were not so effected. The icy sting of claws, the burning of choking lungs, and still no blood...

When he fell to the ground, coughing hard, one last thing flickered through his mind before the world became bathed in black again.

_Didn't make it._

* * *

_I have to warn grandfather..._

The only complete thought he could string together that entire first day, and he wouldn't even recall it a moment later. The rest was the lingering memory of a dull pain in his chest, dizziness without even moving or opening his eyes, and an almost unbearable amount of confusion. There were repeated, hard to understand instructions, ones he eventually made out to be "Stay still and _stop trying to get up_".

And so many hazy dreams of darkness and eyes that gleamed from nowhere. Later, he wouldn't care, and even farther along he would wonder how much—if anything—was significant. The morning, however, it was both concerning and...empty. So empty.

* * *

The second day was more solid, even if waking up in a new place again without any idea how he had gotten there was disorienting. Wandering out of the room—through a _portal_, which should have been much more frightening and unnatural feeling—he found himself in the middle of an entire collection of similar portals.

The only other exit was a path leading down and into a hallway. He followed it somewhat warily, on alert until the hallway finally branched off, ending in another room, this time with people moving about inside.

"Oh, hey; he lives," a man with hair the shade of blood said from a couch not far away, grinning in amusement.

"So those guys didn't have _any _weird 'new Nobody' problems?" the young man near him was wondering. "Weird."

"Heh, like any of them would tell you even if they did." Then, to him, still standing frozen in the doorway. "Oi! You, Marluxia, get over here. Saïx says you're with me today. Can't imagine _why_, but y'know, there you have it."

He had thought the man was talking to him, at least. Before he even had a chance to speak, the man went on, sounding somewhere between incredulous and confusion. "Uh, _you_, Marluxia. Number XI, whatever. I'm talking to you." The man pointed at him for emphasis as he stood.

"That is not-" he started to say, but didn't get a chance before the man finished his sentence for him.

"-your name? 'S your new name, though. Definitely what the rest of us'll be calling you, at least."

...Marluxia. Such a strange name, certainly not _his_. Where was he that needed a new name at all, especially one given to him by someone else?

The man rolled his eyes. "I'll explain later. C'mon, we better get going in case you catch on slow or something like that. They stuck me with way to much to explain." He held out a hand next to him and suddenly a black portal swirled into being next to it. This portal was different than the one he'd passed through earlier, somehow. It seemed darker, in more than just color.

"Come _on_," the man insisted, almost laughing, at Marluxia's hesitation. "It's just a Corridor. You'd better get used to those; you'll be using them a lot."

A few more seconds of hesitation and he complied, walking over to where the man and 'corridor' were.

"I'm Axel, by the way," the man told him just before disappearing inside the portal. "Number VIII."

A heavy feeling descended upon him as he stepped through the space after Axel, dragging at his shoulders. It felt as though the air was being sucked out of him. He stopped short, though he could see himself running and couldn't imagine why he _wasn't_, but at the same time he didn't need to leave, didn't need to move...

_Why wasn't it wrong_? Nothing was wrong, nothing needed to be done, _why_? Something was supposed to be wrong, unnatural, _something_, but it just...was. It just was.

Then Axel seized him by the arm and was dragging him deeper into the darkness, toward something Marluxia couldn't see, and muttering under his breath. "Awesome idea, Sai. Just freaking great."

And they were out in the sunlight, at the edge of a castle courtyard, and Axel was shaking his head.

"If you do that on the return trip, I swear-"

The portal had already disappeared again, with no sign it had ever been there. "What did you do?" Marluxia demanded. Or tried to demand; as it was, it sounded more of a simple question than anything else.

"That's how the Organization—that's us, by the way—gets around. We use them in the castle, between worlds, whatever. They're called Corridors of Darkness, technically, but they get called about a dozen other things, too," Axel explained, then pulled a card out of a pocket in his cloak. He looked down at it for a few long moments, then looked back up at Marluxia and asked, "Do you know how to summon your weapon, by any chance? 'Cause that would save us a bit of time."

"I—no," he answered, looking at the other man oddly. "Not that I think I can summon one at all, though."

A sigh. "That's what I figured." Holding out the hand without the slip of of paper to his side, he instructed, "Now, put your arms out like this—and yes, both of them—and concentrate on something in your hand. Pretend you can feel it." There was a flash and suddenly a spiked weapon appeared in his hand. "It's easier when you know what you're trying to summon, but it should work for the first time."

Following his instructions, ignoring the sense of danger in the back of his mind, Marluxia stood in that position for several minutes, grasping at air every so many seconds. "Why is it not-?" Then, in a flash like Axel's own weapon, a scythe materialized in one of his outstretched hands. It seemed much more like a weapon than the scythe he used to train with.

"See? Told it would work," Axel said, sounding a bit bored. He glanced back at the card again. "All right, let's see...I'm supposed to explain about Heartless, too, but I bet you've probably at least seen them before. Y'know, considering." He gestured vaguely at Marluxia. "You know what I'm talking about, right? Anybody fill you in?"

"On what?"

"...You don't have a heart. Don't tell me you _missed _that?" He laughed. "You know, that thing that makes you feel? Yours is gone, along with mine and everybody else's in the Organization. Crazy thing to not notice, I've gotta say."

"Impossible," he said without thinking, an instinct. At the same time, though, it almost made sense in a strange, mad way.

"I wish. You see any monsters before you showed up here?" Axel didn't wait for a reply. "Those were Heartless. They run around and tear out people hearts in almost every world. Sometimes, those people turn into Nobodies, which are sort-of like Heartless, except white and a bit more human. And even rarer, sometimes they'll turn into Nobodies like you and me, who are a lot like regular people, except _we _can't feel."

Then, that pain in chest...

"It gets easier to fake, though," Axel went on, almost seeming like he might've been talking to himself at this point. "Which is almost creepier, in a way. If you think about it."

"How are we still alive?" Marluxia wondered, frowning as the realization continued to pound through his mind.

"Wrong heart," he answered easily. "Not that we aren't already freaks of nature, anyway. C'mon, there's a lot more to cover. Man, they should divide this up or something, not dump it all on _me_."

* * *

"You are with me today, Marluxia," a young man, Zexion, said after a brief greeting the next day. "Are you familiar with magic?"

"Yes," he replied, looking at him oddly. Of course he was familiar with it, it was one of the most dangerous things one could do. How could he not know of it?"

"Good," Zexion nodded. "It should be easier for you to grasp then."

What? "I meant-" he started to argue, but didn't get a chance.

"And _I_ meant that it would be easier for you to understand if you at least believed it was real," Zexion corrected, evidently anticipating his next sentence, as Axel had. "Very few people have actual practice using it. Though I'm not sure why that is, as it is a useful skill to possess."

A dark corridor later and Marluxia was again in that castle courtyard, though now it seemed to not quite be dawn yet.

"I suppose we ought to start with a basic fire spell, particularly since you don't seem to know what element you have an affinity for yet," Zexion decided. "That's something we will have to work on."

"I cannot." Probably. He had been learning rather strange things about his abilities these past few days. It might have been _would _not, instead.

"You would be surprised how few actually lack even the smallest amount of mana, actually," Zexion told him. "most simply choose not to use it, whether knowingly or not."

"Then I must be one of them," he argued.

"Due to the nature of Nobodies, or more accurately, the process of becoming one, that's impossible." He smirked a bit. "Unless you think that you _already _had the innate ability to summon a scythe at any moment you choose."

"Of course not," he replied immediately, an instinctual lie.

"Then I do wonder if this argument isn't actually an ideological one," he murmured thoughtfully, then, as if it was a challenge, "I expected one."

"Why would it be?" Saying it, surprisingly, didn't hurt or even bother him. No heart.

"We've had the fortune so far to not have anyone who has a conflicting ideology, at least not one that persists very long. If you have any sort of plans to be the exception, I strongly suggest you reconsider. Not that you truly have a choice in the matter, but I expect this is the option you would consider most beneficial.

"Particularly," he added after a brief pause. "for one who has no reasons or ability to care about any damage your former ideas take. And I stress _former_."

His hands tightening into fists, wanting so badly to summon his weapon and slash it into the other man, because he was being told what to do, how to do it, and how to think _again_. "I understand," he ground out.

"Then what's stopping you?"

"Nothing." Nothing except listening to and following the orders of him and everyone else. But he could pretend and play along; he could do that for a long time. Lie after lie. Nothing had changed.

* * *

It was easier to fall into this new routine after that, as was pushing away the thoughts and memories that told him what he should have felt, because that was just it—_should _have. By his first mission, a mere few days later, he almost didn't pay attention to it; it was merely a small voice in the back of his head that went ignored.

"_Again_?" Demyx exclaimed from across the Grey Area. "It's only been a week!"

"First time we've had more than one member in a year since we started," Axel said. "Kind of crazy."

"Is he from the same world?"

"That is none of your concern," Saïx interrupted, taking the mission report Marluxia had handed him.

"Hey, if he wants to tell us," Axel started.

"On your own time, VIII," he warned.

"You _do _remember we have names, right?"

Saïx seemed to ignore that. "You two should be in the Round Room if you know so much about this," he ordered. "Get moving.

"Aw, c'mon!"

"_Now_, number IX."

With the other members gone, Saïx's hard gaze turned back to Marluxia. Without so much as a nod, he was gone in a flash of darkness, appearing again on one of the Round Room's tall thrones. Saïx appeared on the other side of Demyx a moment later. They were only waiting on Xemnas, the Superior as the others called him, and, he assumed, he was expected to as well.

"A hundred munny says our two newbies come from the same world," Xigbar called out, leaning back causally and grinning widely.

"I don't think there is anyone in here that would take that bet."

"VI is right," Luxord agreed from opposite him. "That's a fool's gamble."

Xigbar rolled his eye. "Take all the fun out of it, why don't you."

Before anyone could reply, the surge of darkness that signified a corridor appeared over Xemnas's throne and the room went silent before the final remnants of the portal had even fully disappeared. There were several moments that passed before he spoke, the quiet settling in the room.

"Greetings, comrades. Today, we welcome another chosen to where the coat." As Xemnas spoke, Marluxia hear the soft sound of another corridor opening on the ground far below, so quiet it was barely audible. Two cloaked figures stepped out into the room.

"Number XII."

A young woman looked—glared—up at the members gathered, Xaldin standing several paces behind her.

"It's a girl," Demyx muttered in shock, but Marluxia barely heard him.

They were right, she was from the same world, but it wasn't just that. He _knew _her.

_Relena?_

* * *

Two days later, that realization didn't even feel like a pseudo-shock anymore. Like everything else, it just was.

"Somehow, I am not surprised."

"Lightning suits me, don't you think?" the newly dubbed 'Larxene' said, holding her hand up in front of her face and watching as bursts of it ran across her fingers.

"I think everyone would agree," Marluxia replied. "A bit strange that it does not shock you, though."

"That would ruin it. What would even be the _point_?"

"I suppose-" he stopped abruptly when Xigbar walked in, talking loudly to Xaldin about something or other.

"Already?" the man laughed. "The fell like a freakin' bolder, didn't they?"

Larxene opened her mouth to shout something at him, but then Xaldin said something that gave even her pause.

"La Citè des Cloches seems to have just been waiting for something to tip it over the edge," he was saying. "It was gone by this morning."

"Maybe we're just bad luck or something."

"So Paris is gone," Marluxia muttered, oddly not really all that bothered, as Xigbar laughed behind them.

"Least it went out with a real blaze of glory, yeah?"

"Guess we can't go back," Larxene replied, her anger appearing to have dissipated.

Marluxia smirked. "And why would we?"

_Lumaria, felicis memoriae, requiescat__._

* * *

The last line translates to: Lumaria, of happy memory, may he rest. They're Catholic phrases, and are meant to signify in this case both the semi-literal physical death of Lumaria and the metaphorical death of that part of him (which is what the title is a nod to). And no, the "of happy memory" is not supposed to be sincere here.

This fic is _somehow _longer than _Bonds to be Reforged _even though I cut two scenes out completely (recon tutorial with Vexen, limit break tutorial with Lexaeus) and shortened one (that was also supposed to include Vexen, strangely enough).


End file.
